One Wrong Turn
by Diema Black
Summary: Pan Son has always has a thing for her best friend's older brother, but in an instant her life is turned upside down when she makes one irresponsible choice and now she has to face the consequences.
1. Prologue Pan

**One Wrong Turn**

**Prologue- Pan**

**October 30, 2011**

***Deep breaths. In- 2-3-4. Out-2-3-4. This is not the end of the world.***

**Or so I keep telling myself. A pounding at the door catches my attention. Great. Someone else needs the room. Downside of living in the girl's dorm: communal restrooms.**

**I want to tell them off, pretend that it'll all just go away if I ignore the noise. Nothing is really that simple, no matter how I wish it to be. This isn't that simple. My parents are going to be absolutely **_**thrilled. **_

**I think I'm going to throw up. I want to throw up. Or stuff my head under a pillow for the next year. Instead I grab my belongings. I bury the evidence of my own stupidity in the garbage, flush the toilet and wash my hands. **

"**Sorry" I mumble on my way out the door. I refuse to look in the eyes of the girl who's been waiting on me. Just in case. Nobody needs to know. Except maybe Bra, my best friend. My roommate. I refuse to consider the rest. **

**I come into the room quietly. She might be about, more likely she is out partying with "the girls". I guess I got a little too much of my parents in me. She's here to party, I'm here to learn. We're not really best friends so much anymore. More like acquaintances that just aren't ready to let go. Plus, I think her parents figure she gets better grades if she's living with me. They can pretend she's actually here to learn and not just using the Briefs name and fortune to have fun- even though that is what she's doing.**

"**Whoa. Pan," she squeals from her half of the room, struggling to both pull up the covers and squirm out from under the half-naked guy on top of her. "Didn't you see the occupied sign on the door?"**

**I turn back, open the door. Look at the note hastily scrawled and barely readable message on the door, then back to Bra.**

"**Yeah, sorry." I know my face is puckered in questioning. I also know that for some reason I feel like I'm suddenly about to cry. "Can we not do this now? I'll make it up to you and go home all weekend. I just… I really need some time. Okay?" My voice is starting to crack. **

**The guy, I realize he's new and I don't recognize him. Is already getting out of the bed. He turns to Bra, "Catch you later, Babe and with a wave he's past me and out the door.**

**I let the door slam shut. Head over to my bed. I grab my favorite blanket, one my grandma made me when I was a child going away into space for the very first time. It feels like that was a whole separate lifetime. **

**For the first time the thought of telling Gran hits me. She's always had plans for people. First my dad. Then my uncle. Now for me. I think I've just messed them up, big time. I can already hear her. "Just like your grandfather. Always doing what you want and not thinking the people you leave in your wake." We've had this argument before, Gran and me.**

**I let the tears overtake me. It's really hitting home. Bra is on my bed, an arm around my shoulder.**

**Her voice is soothing, I know my crying has gotten to her; I've always been the strong one. "Honey, what is going on?"**

**My voice is a whisper, barely audible even to the saiyajin ear, "I'm pregnant." **

**And just like that, it's all become so real. What have I done? How did I get here? How did I let this happen to me?**


	2. Chapter One Trunks

One Wrong Turn

Chapter One-Trunks

November 1, 2011

The world is not cut and dry. If it was I wouldn't be such a sucker for my mother's manipulations. Like tonight- my sister is turning 21. Subsequently she wants a party, but not just any part, a coming of age party. In other words, she wants the Capsule Corporation executive guest house for a weekend of binge drinking, wild sex, and possibly drugs.

Since my father is prone to flying off the handle with the least provocation, of course my mother is inclined to let her- under the condition that I go. Presumably so that I can stop the sex and the drugs. What my mother fails to realize is that even at 21 my sister, and most of her friends, are basically glorified teenagers. keeping the determined from finding a place to do the dirty in a miniature mansion is about as likely Goku eating only one bowl of rice come mealtime, in other words, it's not gonna happen.

So here I am, in the guest house hiding out on the uppermost floor while my sister and her friends party below. I can hear them, but only vaguely. I know I should be monitoring them more, but for the first time in over a month I have time and place to myself to do whatever I want. Besides, the only two people down there I care about can more than take care of themselves.

~*P*~*L*~*O*~*T*~*B*~*R*~*E*~*A*~*K*~

Rrrrrrrring… Rrrrrring…

The phone buzzing on the dresser winds its way into my sleep muddled brain. I absently slap around the desk for it, but not in time to actually answer.

"Grand" I mutter to myself. Now I actually have to go to the effort to sit up. I guess that means I may as well wake up, even though I felt the need to take a person day today.

I stretch lazily; then sit up letting the blankets pool in my lap. The rays of sunshine through my skylight feel good against my bare chest and I revel in the warmness of them a moment before reaching over for the phone.

I flip it open and check the screen. Goten. I should have known. We've been best friends since childhood, and in some ways we are more like brothers than friends. But not all I remind myself with a small mental smile, then shake my head in irritation. I keep telling myself that it's an incident better left forgotten.

As my best friend he is frequently the reason I choose to take personal days, but even when we don't have plans together he magically seems to know and I wind up with him anyways. I think he has this power simply because when we were younger and the world was frequently facing "the next worldwide threat" we made use of our saiyajin heritage in order to share one another's bodies as Gotenks.

A smile finds its way onto my face. Good memories. Then I grimace, even if the world was doomed I would not share bodies with him now. Too dangerous.

I hit the button to return the call as I slip out of the bed. The feel of bare wood on the soles of my feet is always a pleasure in the morning. I am opening the dresser as Goten picks up.

"She's an idiot. A total fricking idiot."

Nothing changes. Goten has always viewed his older brother's child much like his own sister, as such he frequently finds fault with what she's into. I wouldn't automatically assume it to be her, except he broke up with his girlfriend more than a month ago and hasn't really been ready to hit the dating scene all over again yet.

"Hey, you called, returning the call now, so why don't you back up and start over. What did Pan do this time?"

I grab training clothes. No use showering or getting into anything nice, I'm pretty sure if I want the full story a sparring session is going to be in order so Goten can get his head on straight. Sisters truly are among the most infuriating creatures in the world. Sure you love them, you have to, but it doesn't mean they're going to be all sugar plums and rainbows. Though that would be a nice change of pace.

Goten is growling, this must really be bad. I prepare myself for the worst; she's decided to go to school in America after all. "She's gone and gotten herself knocked up," he practically spits.

My eyes go a bit wide. I stumble for the right word. "Are you sure? I mean-"

"Very." He cuts me off. "She's rather round about now."

I would have expected this from my sister, but not from Pan. She's the studios one, the good one. Sure I can't say I know her exceptionally well, my mind starts to wander off in contradiction but I shut it down quickly; I know her well enough.

"That's not completely unheard of in college freshman. You know, away from home and family rules and all that."

"Maybe for some freshman," he practically sneers, and I can tell he's insinuating Bra, "but Panny; she's smarter than that. What makes it worse is that she's known about this for three months. THREE! And never told anybody in the family."

Mental tally.

"Three months?" mental sigh of relief. "Who's the father, then?"

"She refuses to say. All she'll tell me is some guy at Bra's twenty-first. Could have been anybody, I guess. But I think she knows who it is."

I gulp involuntarily. Reflex action. Couldn't be. No way. She'd have said something. No need to worry.

"Yeah. Could have been anybody there. If you want I can ask Bra if she knows."

"That would be great. I'm going to pummel the slimly little bastard when I find out who it is. Ruining my favorite niece's future with damn idiocy. At least I don't have to worry about it being you, right?"

"Yeah. At least you don't have to worry about that," I can feel my voice tremble just a little. Can Goten tell? Kami, I hope he can't. "Hey, do you want to fight this out in the grav. room then or what?"

Silence at the other end. Could he feel my hesitance after all? Does he know that the last place I want to be is in the same room as him right now? That I want to go hunt his niece down to wrangle some answers out of her scrawny little self.

"Wish I could, man. But I've got work in 30. I think it's off my chest for now. Maybe after we can catch up?"

"Yeah. Sure." I breathe in a huge sigh of relief. "Sounds great"

"Kay. Catch you later."

"Later." Goten's end of the line clicks off. I close my own phone and sit down on the side of my bed.

Well damn.

** Author's Notes**

I feel that feedback is critical. Thank you to those who left some on the previous chapter. Please, if there is anything you think isn't working or could use some changing up, let me know. I love constructive criticism as much as praise.

Some thoughts of mine about what I have going on. I may be jumping into the water a little quickly here. I tend to do that, but I think I'm okay with it. As you can see there is also a time jump. Expect that. I know time shifts are awkward, but I feel that writing out the past along with the future a little at a time just gives it a little bit more realism. I don't know, maybe it's just me.

Lastly, while I got this up with a fairly quick turnaround, please don't expect that to be the norm around here. I am the mother of two as well as taking 6 credit hours of college courses. I tend to sometimes be busy, it just depends on what I have going on in my life. I'm going to strive for once a week, but we'll see.

Lastly, for those looking for timeline. If she has known for three months, she's more like four months pregnant.


	3. Chapter Two Pan

One Wrong Turn

Chapter Two- Pan

I hate these kinds of events. I always have, and I think Bra knows it; I also think she stopped caring a long time ago. Blaming it on her mother may be out of place, but it doesn't mean that Bulma isn't at fault on this one. Vejiita may have helped to. Though the Saiyajin peoples may be on the brink of extinction now, he is still their Prince and Ruler and he refuses to let anyone forget it.

The fact that I can get away to the upper floor unnoticed is a small feat in itself. Usually Bra tries to uphold the image that we're best of best of buds when we come home. I guess she's either stopped caring what her parents think, or the fact that they're not here plays a part, or maybe she's just too drunk to care at this point. Who knows? I'm not going to look my gift horse in the mouth, I'm just going to take it and run.

I sneak into the library where I've stashed my bag of stuff: clothes, toiletries and most importantly, text books. I have a huge test coming up in Japanese Lit. that I need to study for not to mention all my other classes. Maybe I should have chosen somewhere other than my mother and father's mutual alma matter, but who can fight family tradition. Or gran?

I change into my comfortable night clothes. This party dress, can you really call a scrap of material that's just big enough to cover your boobs and your back end a dress? Bra insisted I had to wear it. Well, either way, the dress is just plain uncomfortable, yet another reason I wanted out. I pull on my favorite white night clothes. A little sheer, a little sexy, kind of gothic, and faintly reminiscent of Amy Lee in her more than memorable video _my immortal._

I am just settling in with my lit. book when I hear a noise in the next room. Soon the soft noises of an acoustic guitar are playing, and as I pad over across the room to stand in the doorway he starts to sing.

His voice is beauty incarnate. Melancholy. The words rush over me, touching parts of my soul I didn't know existed. How can this be coming from him? More importantly, how could I not have known that he was capable of these emotions, or had these hidden talents? I stand transfixed in the doorway. I dare not enter for fear of disturbing him and ruining this moment where it feels like his words are meant for me and me alone.

I prop my feet up on the end table and stretch across the sofa. Work kills me, but at least it pays and graveyard shift means that I can go to classes too. Even though I could probably switch to days for the summer, why mess up an already working schedule. Plus, it pays better to work at night and I need that if I want to keep the place on my own.

~*P*~*L*~*O*~*T*~*B*~*R*~*E*~*A*~*K*~

The phone rings and I look at it. Mom. Again. I don't know why she thinks that badgering will get her the answer she's looking for. I rub the small bulge where my baby is nestled. For the sake of us all I can't tell who her father is.

I don't find out for at least another month, but I can just feel it in my bones. This baby is a girl. My own special little girl to cherish and love. The longer I carry her and the more she grows the more love I have towards her and in turn the man who gave her to me. The more certain I become that I could never betray the magic of her conception by being with another, and being with him is simply out of the question.

I didn't think I'd feel this way when I found out three months ago. Hell, I didn't think I'd be here at all four months ago. Four months, has it only been that long. Where has the time gone? Every day seems like a year sometimes, but all in all it also seems like just yesterday I was crying in Bra's arms that I was pregnant and that it had been just days before that I was bemoaning having to be at her stupid party.

Five more months of pregnancy. Middle of fall term, I will be a mother. Me. A mother. My own mother is still furious about becoming a grandmother, though I think she's angrier about not knowing who did the deed. How can I explain to her there was love in it? How can I make her see that my predicament does not mean she failed as a mother?

A knocking at the door tells me someone is here. How I wish that I had better windows, but basement apartments are cheap. I need cheap. I lug myself up off the couch to go get the door. I'm certain it's mom, responding to my failure to answer the phone. Or maybe Gran. Or even Goten. Goten seems to be even angrier about this than my own father. But then dad has been so wrapped up in work the last few weeks. I'm sure when he gets back to Japan and it really sinks in he'll get mad. Two weeks 'till then I remind myself. No need to panic.

Pounding at the door again. Louder, more insistent. I look at the clock. Yep, only 9 a.m. Who on earth is so eager to see me at 9am? Don't they know all I want to do is curl up and relax for a while before getting some sleep?

"I'm coming" I holler as I make my way towards the door. I stand for a minute and check myself in the mirror. Shirt pulled down and looking neat, pants buttoned, hair smoothed. Okay. Ready.

I open the door and come face to face with my worst nightmare.


	4. Chapter Three Trunks

One Wrong Turn

Chapter 3- Trunks

November 2, 2011

The faint gasp catches my inattention. I might not have even noticed it at all were I not half-saiyajin, and therefore equipped with better hearing. I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye because stopping mid-song would hurt. Maybe not physically, but mentally it would disturb me to stop here. I'm in a groove; I've been working on this song every spare moment for months.

Ethereal. My first thought. Can't be a real creature. Bare feet on the deep blue rug, uneven strands of gossamer white hanging ghostly against bare legs that have lost the luster of a summer tan. As the song closes I find myself looking higher, at the bodice of the gown pulled in tight against a slim waist. The low dip of the neckline showing just a hint of the tops of her breasts. Simple string straps holding it on, and hanging loosely about her shoulders is a wrapper. Equally almost see through, twisted in her hands allowing me to see the delicate beadwork at the ends. Her dark hair is loose about her face, ends just brushing her shoulders; slightly mussed. She must have had it tied up during the day, but regardless it looks amazing on her.

"Please. Don't stop?" Her voice is soft, a hint of begging. Utterly arousing in its innocence.

"Pan?" Questioning. A cool slap in the face. Pan. Sister's best friend. Best friend's niece.

"It was lovely." She's moving closer to me and I can see how she wraps her arms around herself, how the dress- I now realize it's more a very elegant nightgown- shapes itself around her legs. "Please, play something else." She sits down at my feet. I have the briefest glimpse as she adjusts herself to a comfortable position of what is under the neck of her gown. I'm definitely not standing up anytime in the next hour.

"Sure." I move into another song, again of my own making. A ballad. Not really a love ballad, more a fighter's ballad. Having helped save the world as a child, I felt more than qualified to author it. Frankly, it's the reason I wanted to learn to play, and why I do this in my spare time, not that I get a lot of it.

I don't need to think here. This song is a part of my soul, has been four years. I can watch her face. The change in her eyes as she recognizes the veiled litany of those she loves, and the things they accomplished so long ago. Before she was born. It slaps me in the face. She's still 14 years my junior, even if she is 21. And gorgeous.

She stands and my gut clinches harder. "May I try?" She's holding her hand out for the guitar. "Would you show me?" Make it two hours before I can stand, if she doesn't kill me first. Who knew that innocence and mystery could be more alluring than the crap my sister's friends have on downstairs?

*~*P*~*L*~*O*~*T*~*B*~*R*~*E*~*A*~*K*~*

As she opens the door my breath catches. There is a glow to her that defies true description, perhaps best compared to the dragon balls as they blink in recognition of another. I don't know. Like a firefly, lit from the inside from some divine spark. Even with the roundness beginning to show just slightly around her midsection, she looks amazing.

Pregnancy suits her. And I want to kick myself. Thoroughly.

I should have talked to her. Kept in contact. It's not as though we did anything tawdry. Hardly. I can remember every detail; the very thought of which makes my blood burn. Does my lack of follow-through cheapen the experience? Probably.

"Trunks," her voice is a whisper. There is shock in her eyes. At least I hope its shock. It could be disgust. I'd hate for it to be disgust, but then given what I've heard of the early Sid effects of pregnancy on a woman's body I guess I wouldn't blame her.

"Pan," I keep my own voice tight. Control, I need control. Getting angry now isn't going to solve anything.

I can see her hand itching at the door. If she tries to close me in I have every intention of barging in. Though truth be told I probably should anyways. What I have to say to her probably shouldn't be on display for anyone who walks past to hear. Or her family. Are we telling her family? Do I really want Goten to have a reason to actually pummel me here?

"Can I come in? We need to talk."

Hesitation. I can feel the tension. Could probably cut it with a knife if I had one handy. She steps aside slowly.

My hand brushes against her as I move past. It's like an electric shock, but I'm not able to see her face to see if she feels it to. The door shuts as I find my way into her tiny living room. What is she living in here, a closet? I sit on the metal chair by her computer desk, leaving her the more cushioned couch.

She shuts the door then eases herself into the couch. I can recall she used to flop. How many times did I see her as a child at my house stretched belly down across the couch, feet in the air, books on the floor as she and Bra studied.

"Not a child now" I mutter to myself. Definitely not. I kick myself again mentally, truly this is going to solve nothing if I can't even wrangle myself in to have this discussion with her. It's why I didn't talk to her in the first place.

"Huh? Didn't catch that?" Sweet, lilting. Patient. When the hell did her voice get that? Did she have it before and I was too busy to notice?

I fumble for the right words. "Talking to myself. Sorry."

"So..." I can feel her discomfort. I'm uncomfortable too.

This whole damn thing is uncomfortable. Sleeping with her was- pure joy. But afterwards, it felt as though I had just desecrated a holy temple. How had I done it? And the force that I felt to do it again- it doesn't bear thinking on.

I guess she's leaving me to start this. I guess that's fair given that I am the one who has just showed up at her door. More than fair.

"How..?" no not the question I want to ask. "Why," better question, "why didn't you tell me? Were you ever going to inform me? Don't I have a right to know?" It's like a pot coming to boil. The anger is rolling out of me before I can reel the words back in. "Is that even my baby?"

I can tell I've gone too far before she speaks. Before she gets to her feet even. I can tell the instant the words are out, how her eyes rim with tears. I don't expect tears from Pan, ever. She's too tough, too stubborn, too... pregnant, and emotional, out of control. Not the girl I knew as a child, or even the young woman I thought I knew before all this. She has officially graduated to outright full womanhood now, and I need to get on the ball and catch up because I can tell I'm about to be left behind.

Her voice is raw. Emotions under leash. "Get out. Now. Get OUT of my house right now!"

Her hand is shaking as she points to the front door I just barely came in through. I should argue. Should fight. Should force the issue. But I can't. I want to wrap in my arms and cocoon her from everything that can hurt her more than I already have, and that brings back the desire. Brings back the fear. Brings back the hate.

Instead I stand quietly. Head for the door. I open it; turn to look at her but she's no longer watching me. Her head is turned away and I know she's already crying.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

I don't know if she can hear me. Or if she believes it. Or if she cares.

But for the first time, in a long time, I'm finally telling the truth. I am sorry. Sorry she grew up. Sorry that I didn't know how I felt about her. Sorry I went too far. Sorry that she's here now, pregnant. Sorry, most importantly for the wounds I just caused. Of course the baby is mine. I knew it the minute, no the very second, that Goten told me she was pregnant. Of course it's mine, it couldn't be anyone else's.

I really have put myself in the fire now.


	5. Chapter Four Pan

Author's Note: I apologize for the incredibly long gap in posting this. I had some stuff going on that took priority. On the flipside, I am back and should be able to post more regularly. My goal is at least once a week, but we'll see what happen. Regardless, hope you enjoy. Feedback will, as always, be appreciated.

One Wrong Turn

Chapter 4- Pan

I can tell by the way he holds onto the guitar that he's holding back. Fear? Maybe, I don't know. Mind reading isn't one of my powers, though right now perhaps it would be nice.

I don't want him to fear me, but I can't help but want to be close to him. I don't know if I would normally be this forward, but this moment... This moment is like being alive inside a dream. Maybe that one drink was one too many. Or maybe this really is a dream. I can't be sure, but I refuse to let this pass.

I take the only move I know. I move over to the couch he's sitting on and gently grab the neck of his guitar pulling it from his fingers. As I do so, he turns to me, opening his mouth to say something. Perhaps to stop me, to end this, to shatter this perfection- I'll never know. Instead as the instrument fully leaves his possession I move it towards the low coffee table and lean in brushing my mouth to his.

What starts first as hesitant and unsure is soon moving too fast for me to follow. Before my mind can process the path we're on his hands are around my waist pulling me against him. When he has pulled me onto his lap using one hand on my back to keep me there he moves the other to the back of my neck.

His tongue is hot inside my mouth. Like a snake trying to discover my secrets. I can't breathe, but I don't want to anymore. He has become like the air to me, I couldn't stop now if I wanted to. His lips move off mine, I make a noise of protest, but am cut short as they latch onto my collarbone where he nibbles gently. I hear moaning and while it must be me, I can hardly believe these breathless noises could be coming from my mouth.

Suddenly I can't feel the warmth of his hands on me anymore and the warm caress of his lips stops as well. I drift my gaze up to him. He looks torn; unsure. I touch him gently, a slow stroke of my fingers along his cheek, trailing down his neck, his chest. I am brave, fearless. I allow my fingers to creep under the band of his shirt to feel the hard ripple of his abs.

"Are you sure," his voice is tight, and I realize for the first time the effort he is taking to restrain himself. "If I start again... I can't... I'm not... I won't be able to stop."

I nod my head unable to speak coherently as I drown in his lavender gaze.

~*P*~*L*~*O*~*T*~*B*~*R*~*E*~*A*~*K*~

As the door shuts behind him I allow myself to cry. How could he question this? Was this really such an inconsequential moment in his life? Was I really just one more conquest to notch on his belt? And how can he not know how he affects me? How I feel about him.

The tears fall freely as I move off to my room. I'm not in the mood to be up anymore. I look through blurry eyes at the clock. One hour until my appointment. I can take a short nap to get this out of my system before having to leave.

I've just settled myself in my sea of soft covers and pillows- the only things I have allowed myself to splurge on simply for the pleasure of it- when I hear my door opening again.

"Pan Son, I am not leaving this house until we talk about this!" His voice is an angry roar. I should have known I'd never get away so easily.

I shift position preparing to get out of bed when I hear his stomping feet outside my door.

"Come on in" I say as I sit at the edge of the bed. As much as he has hurt me, he does have the right to know more about this life we have created together. I lay my hand protectively across my slightly rounded middle. Somehow everything has to be okay. Has to work out. Has to; for the baby.

I am wiping the tears from my eyes and when I look up he is staring at me. Head cocked to one side. Is this curiosity or thoughtfulness, I can't decide.

"I didn't mean that," he mumbles.

"Did mean what?" I am fighting to keep my voice hard, to not let him see how soft I am when it comes to him.

"It's like the anger just boiled out of me. Everything, it just came out wrong."

"Understatement." I interrupt him. I will not let him make me feel sorry for him.

"I... I know that I'm the father, Pan. I knew it the second I heard. How could it be anyone else? I just don't understand why you hid this from me? I at least deserve an explanation for that? You owe me that much."

"You think you _deserve_ an explanation for why I didn't tell you. How about why you didn't call me, or talk to me after you were done using me? When you break a toy do you give an _explanation _when you throw it away, or is it simply no longer a part of your life, Trunks? I don't _owe_ you anything." I pause a moment to fill my lungs with a deep breath of air. "I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd want to know. And don't begin to tell me otherwise, have you once talked to me in the last three months?" I can feel the tears building up inside me, and I want desperately to get this out. "Did you even think about me? I thought there was something between us, but then you never called. Never stopped by. I know that I was just a one-time fling for you; I just have the misfortune of being someone you know. So you tell me, Trunks Vejiita Briefs, if you didn't know who I was, if someone in one of our families- I'm assuming Goten- hadn't told you; would you even _be _here right now?"


	6. Chapter Five Trunks

One Wrong Turn

Chapter 5- Trunks

November 4, 2011

**WARNING: The flashback of this chapter is a LEMON. If you are offended by sexual scenes please feel free to skip down beyond the plot break. Thank you.**

I refuse to allow my mind to consider the implications of this moment. I loose myself inside what I'm feeling- the perfection that is her mouth as I kiss her again. She is a nymph drawing from me passions I could not have predicted being within my possession.

I am too aware of how quickly my control is slipping. I refuse to sully her further by taking her here in the open on a couch. I close my eyes and with firm resolve try to move her aside. I know that down at the end of the hall is an opulent bedroom. A bed. I need to get us to that bed.

As I get her off my lap I stand, taking her hands. I kiss her briefly one more time. A man could live off these kisses. With her trailing behind me I move towards that back bedroom. Getting her inside the door I shut it tightly behind us and some sane part of my brain has the resolve to lock it. I move her towards the bed ripping at her clothes. Now that this primal part of my brain is assured that I alone will have her I need to see her. Every inch of her.

As I trail her nightdress up her legs I allow myself to explore the smoothness of the inside of her thigh. My finger wanders idly to toy with the lacey edge of her panties. She is panting, and I can feel the moisture of her need. I smile with a sadistic glee that I can't contain. I move away now following the trail of the fabric with my lips.

Up her stomach and her ribs, to the delicate line of her bra. I fumble with the clasps before finally tearing it in pure frustration. Her breasts break free, glorious. I savor them while I remove those lacey under things from her body. I can't help but enjoy the way she moves against my hands.

I am trying to keep this from moving too fast but my own need is pressing great. I am undressed quickly; she is eyeing me a tigress upon the bed. And then I am upon her. What I want to be a romantic interlude is now a primal need that will not be denied and I can't help but feel inadequate in its wake.

As I press inside her I can't help but imagine that surely this is how heaven must feel.

~*P*~*L*~*O*~*T*~*B*~*R*~*E*~*A*~*K*~

My mind reals from the force of the accusation. I am taken aback, but as I grasp the full meaning of her words I am forced to wonder- would I be here now if not for knowing her?

I have never considered the idea that a fling might result in a child. Then again, I have always been so careful to use protection. And suddenly I realize the true depth of my callousness. I never used protection with her. No wonder we are in this mess now. How stupid of me to forget it, and how dumb to not consider until now four months too late.

"Pan," I try to keep my voice gentle, "where do we take this from here?"

I am lost; adrift in a sea of feelings I have no experience with. I can't decipher what I feel for her now from what I have felt for her in the past. How do I reconcile this woman with the child she has always been to me? She has become more than just "little Pan, Goten's shadow" and "Bra's best friend". She is the mother of my child and I want to touch her again.

I move beside her, slowly giving her ample time to protest. I feel the need to touch her, to feel the swell of her belly where my child grows within her. Touching her is like grabbing lightening. It is a full awareness of how unsuited I am for the role I have put myself in, how inadequate I am as a person. And yet… And yet I am going to be a father.

I take a deep breath. Slowly, in and out. Breathe.

"What do we do here, Pan?"

"We make the best of what we're given." Her voice is confident, wise. I guess this could make a person wise.

"Why didn't you tell them it was me?" I am calm now, genuinely curious. No longer angry. How can I hold against her the result of my own foolish stupidity?

I feel the deep breath she takes. "I didn't want them to take it out on you. Trunks, to be honest I have been half…"

Whatever else she was going to say is gone. We have been too engrossed in one another to pay attention to our surroundings, a poor thing for a warrior to be sure. The blow to my temple comes from nowhere and as I lay on the floor looking up into the eyes of my best friend I realize that for a long time I have been phoning it in, going through the motions.

"Goten Son!" Pan yells and I can't help that her voice is beautiful even in anger.

"Him!" Goten sneers, "of all the people in Japan you choose to have a one night stand with him? The man who has slept with half the women in the damn country? What the hell where you _thinking_?"

Pan stands off the bed and as she reaches a hand down in offering of support, which I deny, out of stubborn pride I'll admit.

"I was thinking," she spits back at him, "That I am more than old enough to make my own decisions about my sexuality. I was thinking that it's none of your damn business, or anyone else's, what or who I do in my own bed. I was thinking that I've been in love with him for as long I've known what the emotion is! I was thinking that I was too busy _feeling_ to be thinking, something you ought to give a try yourself, you self-righteous jerk."

The shock on Goten's face is evident. I myself am shocked. She loves me? I knew that she was infatuated with me when she was younger but I always assumed that she outgrew it. I stopped hearing about it.

I bring myself fully to my feet and rub a hand through my hair.

"Goten. I didn't mean for it to happen. I mean, I wasn't planning an assault on your niece. Kami, I wasn't planning a romantic anything with anyone. It was just one of those things, and it happened. Like a tsunami, I got caught up and carried away and even if I were able to change things now I'm not sure I would want to. And I know you want to kill me right now, or let your brother do the deed or even my father, I don't really know for sure. But what I do know is that this isn't between any of you anymore. We're adults here and she and I we need to talk this out between us so if you don't mind, I'd ask you to leave."

As he turns his back I wonder; have I just lost my best friend? Will he forgive me for this?

Can I forgive me for this?


	7. Chapter Six Pan

One Wrong Turn

Chapter 6- Pan

I lay in bed beside him. The rise and fall of his chest beside me a small comfort as my mind races. What did I just do?

I trace fingers across his chest and lean in for another sweet taste of his lips. If I'm going to damn myself, then I might as well do it fully. I'm not sure if I really want to love him, but I also don't think I'll be able to push it off any longer. I've spent too much of my life silently chasing him and now I've given over a piece of myself I doubt I'll ever be able to reclaim.

I feel muddled and afraid. I look at the clock and realize how fast the time has gone. Do I dare leave this bed to open the door and see if the world outside this room still exists?

His eyes are closed. His breathing even. Asleep. My mind is racing. How do I calm it? I pull myself against him, resting my ear over his beating heart. I force myself to be calm; to drift into sleep.

When the bright light of morning comes I find myself alone in the big bed a soft blanket over me. Trunks is gone, as is all evidence of him. I am wont to believe it is all a dream but for the stickiness of my legs and the fact that I am naked under the covers.

I snuggle in closer pulling the pillow on the other side of the bed against me. It still smells of him. There isn't anything explaining his absence. He's just gone with the morning light. I sit up slowly in the bed, pulling the covers against me. My night things are neatly folded on a chair and my belongings are in from the other room.

I pull myself out of the bed and dig around my pack for my clean clothes. I know there's a washroom here somewhere, but I'm just not interested. I feel exposed now and I just want to get back to the familiar. Home or the dorms. I don't care which, as long as it's not here.

Downstairs all is quiet, people asleep on floor and sofas. Blankets rolled on the floor. I can't find Bra but that hardly surprises me. I find some paper in my pack and a pen to scribble a hasty note:

Bra,

I have to go. Sorry. I'm sure you can find your way back to campus before Monday. Best of luck to you. Happy Birthday.

Pan

Then I'm in the car and heading back to the safety of the dorm. Of the known, the orderly. As I drive I realize that as much as it hurts that he left, I'm desperately hoping he calls.

~*P*~*L*~*O*~*T*~*B*~*R*~*E*~*A*~*K*~

"A dinner?" my mother questions. "You want us to have a dinner?"

I nod my head. "With our family and friends, yes. I was wrong to keep my pregnancy from you and from everyone. I'd like to rectify that by making a public announcement. I'm sure Bulma would happily help coordinate."

I smile at her warmly. I'm her only child; I know she adores me, always has. As much as she is disappointed in me right now, it's nothing compared to what I intend to hit her with at dinner. I also know that she'll eventually have to get over it. And by making the announcement publicly I'll only have to say it once.

She looks thoughtful, "and during this dinner you plan to what?"

I smile. It's been a month since I gave in and told my family I was pregnant at all. How Trunks kept Goten's mouth shut I don't know and have really questioned. Trunks and I are on thin ice right now.

I can't say we're a couple, we aren't. But we're talking at least. A step forwards for us. I feel like we can't move forward until we get out of the shadows, until we are open about everything. It'll be easier if I only have to say it once.

"Be open about my pregnancy the air, celebrate, That's all."

"Will this clearing the air include telling us about who the father is? Do I need to invite anyone outside the circle of our friends and family?"

"I told you it was a one time thing, I meant that— we're not together. It's important everybody knows everybody, so if you take care of the arrangements and the family, I'll take care of getting him to the party" It's mostly honest. Letting her know how close to family this is now would only end badly. It's better to let her think this goes beyond the extended group of people my mother and father view as our family.

"Pan, I just want for things to work out for you. I want to see you happy again. Is that too much for a mother to ask?"

I give her a warm hug, or as much of a warm hug as I can manage. "No mom. Never too much. I love you."

"I love you too. Now, if I'm not mistaken you need to be getting out the door for work. Dinner tomorrow right?"

"Right."

Tomorrow. That's all the time we get to prepare then. And then all hell is going to break loose in my little realm. I'm not sure that I'm ready, but having it out in the open has to be better than now.


	8. Chapter Seven Trunks

One Wrong Turn

Chapter 7- Trunks

I am sitting at my desk reading over the same report for the tenth time. My mind is elsewhere, and if I could I'd talk about it. But talking would be dangerous.

I can't believe you just left. I should call her, take her out to dinner. But it's been two weeks.

I think about calling her constantly, but I can't bring myself to actually pick up the telephone. I know, intellectually, that we shouldn't be together. I'm too old for her, too experienced, no good.

But my body grows tight and hard every time I so much as think about the way she looks at me, like my body is perfect. Or about the way she turned my name into a whispered prayer while clenching my body tight inside hers.

How do you pretend to have a normal conversation when the only thing on your mind is how amazing the sex was? Even worse, how do you explain to your best friend that the girl who is occupying your thoughts is practically his sister.

Do you really want to explain to Goten how you got together with his niece at a birthday party? Well, we could try to keep it secret, but sex and secrecy don't really mix well with Saiya-jins. Definitely better to keep to yourself.

~*P*~*L*~*O*~*T*~*B*~*R*~*E*~*A*~*K*~

"Are you sure this dinner is going to be a good idea?" I ask.

We are having lunch together in her apartment. Until our families know the truth she insists that we can't be seen in public together. I doubt anyone in our families would think anything close to the truth, but I defer to her judgement and bring the carryout she's been craving for the last week.

She swallows a gulp of noodles while nodding her head. "I'm done lying to everyone about this, Trunks. It'll be easier on everyone if we just tell them everything at once and get it out there."

I question who this is best for. I'm fairly certain she hasn't considered the fact that I am enough years older than her to have been expected to know better. They'll think I took advantage, and maybe I did. I'm going to be facing an inquisition. But we are where we are, nobody can go back in time and undo this, which really means the only question is where are things headed from here.

I'm not sure either of us is ready for this. We don't even have a real relationship. We're barely talking. I don't know how to make this more than a continual conversation about the baby, our baby.

"We should move in together."

She glares at me above the rim of the bowl she's been slurping noodles from. "No."

"Pan, think about it, you're all but living in a closet. I can provide for both of us. My condo is huge, there's plenty of room for you and the baby. You can still finish school if you want, graduate. Or stay home with the baby, if you'd rather. I don't care."

I am refusing to let myself think about what living with her would really entail. That I'm desperate to really be alone with her, to have an actual relationship that goes beyond prenatal appointment up-dates.

That I want to kiss her lips until they are red and swollen with passion. I want to turn her smooth black hair into a frizzy mess from the friction of movement. Kami have mercy on my soul, I want to see her whole body jump when I blow hot air across the buds of her taught breasts. I want to experience the fusion of my body and hers naked and unashamed.

"I don't think that's a good idea" she mutters placing her hands around the swollen ball of her abdomen.

"And telling our families we had a one night stand at my sister's birthday party is?"

"Trunks…" Her voice is a pained whisper.

I am now painfully aware of the tightness in my groin, why did she have to say my name in that tone? Is she aware of what she does to my body at all?

And then she starts to cry. Tears slipping from her eyes in fat, swollen drops. I want to hate her for this weakness, the way my father would. Somehow, I can't, perhaps I am too much my mother's son after all.

The chair scrapes across the linoleum tiles with a piercing wail. My booted feet are too loud compared to her muffled sobs, thundering as I walk around the table. Bending low, I fold her small frame into my arms from behind the chair. She turns towards me, burying her face in my neck and shoulder.

I can smell the lingering fragrance of shampoo in her still damp hair, the faint aroma of lavender and lilacs. As she turns more into my embrace and I am brought flush with her swollen belly, which is surprisingly firm. I am now supporting more of her weight than her chair, and it's easy to move my arm down her back and sweep her up into my arms. After as many years as I've had training in super-gravity, she is light and easy to carry.

I take her into the tiny bedroom, just enough space for the double bed that she's had since her childhood. I recognize the delicate scrollwork carved by the deft fingers of Piccolo's hand. Upon the return from outer space, this had been presented as a gift to make up for the holiday's missed during her year away. The deep cherry wood had been felled from the forests on her great-grandfather's land.

It's a horrible reminder of how screwed up this situation really is. What in the hell was I thinking?

I lay her down on the edge of the bed and she immediately turns her back to me, curling up in a loose fetal ball.  
>"Pan, you're not doing this alone. Let me in. Tell me what you're thinking." I stroke her back with my hands, long smooth strokes meant to help her calm down and stop crying.<p>

She turns towards me, face blotched and puffy. "I don't want this, Trunks"

"And you think I did?"

"No, not the baby. This with you, the noncommittal relationship. I am not your mother. I can't be content with only half of a man."

I laugh, but only because her notions are completely outrageous. From the outside, it's true that's what my parents relationship looks like. They don't touch, or even talk like two people in love. It's true, she never married him. And while she's always stated it's because he's not the marrying kind, you have to really get to know her and him to understand that it's always been much deeper than that. A piece of paper would never make him stay, the ceremony wouldn't mean anything to him either. He's stayed, year after year, out of his own sense of honor and commitment, just like any man would, I guess. And because in private, when nobody is looking, he loves her. Really loves her in a way that is open and soul-baring. I've seen them, in the middle of the night, holding hands while she watches her TV shows, and he watches her, completely at ease to just being beside her. No poise, no warrior. Just two people. That's my mother and father, everything else is just pretense because he is who he is, what he is. He's killed people for the sport of it, watched his people die in the blink of an eye, and he could break her with his bare hands if he wanted to.

I've known this since I was three, when he pulled me into the gravity chamber and started teaching me to be a warrior his way. When she yelled at him through the windows because I was pressed to the floor fighting to get my breath and she couldn't do anything but hurl words at him like stones. And he laughed, not maniacally, but out of humor because in that moment we both knew that she wasn't going to save me because she didn't have the power. But he turned the gav off so she could come in and scoop me up to mother me in that way that mother's do when they feel their child is threatened. He let her hit him and call him names, because it made her feel better. And later, when they both thought I was asleep from the toughness of the ordeal, I saw the way he kissed her. In that moment I swore to myself I would love the way my father loves—completely, with the entirety of his being.

I want to tell her about how she has no idea, but I can't. Explaining my parents relationship would be like breaking a sacred trust. It's theirs, it doesn't need me to interpret it for her if she can't read the truth for herself.

"Fine then. Marry me first."


	9. Chapter Eight Pan

One Wrong Turn  
>Chapter 8—Pan<p>

I don't think Bulma, or my mother, know how to do anything on a small scale. She's laid out the capsule corporation lawn beautifully with large round tables draped in a pastel rainbow of linen table cloths. Each table is set with a tidy presentation of stacked plate, immaculately laid out silver, and sparkling crystal goblets. Strings of lantern style light are draped across the trees casting a soft glow across the lawn. This is far too pretty for what I have planned.

Why didn't I suggest we do this at Gran's house where it would be far less formal?

"It's hard to believe how grown up you've gotten, Pan," Bulma gushes "It seems so surreal to be hosting a celebration for your impending motherhood. It seems like just yesterday that we were rejoicing over Gohan and Videl finally having you."

I nod my head noncommittally with a murmured sound. It's clear she's not really talking to me, more talking at me. I'm used to this, surprisingly. Not just from Bulma, but from lots of people, a side effect of being an only child.

"The party doesn't start for a little white yet, why don't you go up to Bra's room and visit, you girls haven't seen one another since you got out of school last term." This from my mother as she walks by with two trays laden with food. "I'm sure we've got this covered here, don't we Bulma."

"Yes, of course. How silly of me to keep you here. We'll see you at the party in a bit. You really should be resting, shouldn't you."

I suppress a yawn and smile. "I'm fine, but a visit would be nice."

As I slip away into the depths of the main house, I admit that I have no intention of seeing Bra right now. i don't really feel up to it and I'm not sure I can keep from practicing on her what I need to say later. What I want, more than anything right now, is a nap. I turn past the kitchen down the main hallway, which connects the main house to the areas set up for Vegeta's training, as well as the medical wing. I turn towards the living areas and when I reach the hallway that leads to the suite of rooms that belonged to Trunks, when he lived at home. Nobody should be there, I can think undisturbed.

I open the door and slip inside stealthily. Pressing my back into the wood I close my eyes taking a deep breath. I've got an alarm set for tonight anyway. I open my eyes and head to the oversize bed off the main room.

I am surprised to find Trunks stretched out across a plush sofa reading. I guess it makes sense to come here after leaving my place, his mother would be expecting him for tonight and this is still his space. I am the invader here.

"Pan?" He is looking at me, reading glasses slipping off his nose.

"I… I'm sorry." I stutter. "I didn't think anyone would be here." I turn to leave. "Sorry."

Quicker than lightening he's in front of me,His hands resting lightly on my arms. "You don't have to go. This doesn't have to be awkward."

But it is, intensely so. I refuse to accept what he's offering because I want his love ,not his pity. I try to brush past him, but his grip intensifies locking me in place.

"Don't leave." His voice is a whisper and I can't pinpoint what about it makes my heart race.

"We can't…"

He cuts me off, pulling me tight against him and crushing my mouth under his. His tongue prods at my lips seeking entrance into my mouth. I can't deny him. As his hands move to cup my breasts and he pushes me backwards into the door, I am aware not only of the pulsing ache building between my legs and moistening my underwear; but of his own need pressing into me.

My protests turn to moans of pleasure. He melts me. It's dangerous being with him like this. I am reminded that we've been here once before and it ended badly by the baby's wild kicks battering my abdomen from the inside. The pressure of Trunks' body on mine is too much.

I pull away from him. "Trunks," I choke out between breaths, "you're smushing the baby."

He immediately backs up. I can tell by his posture that he's unsure of himself. I take advantage to move to the couch he's just vacated. He follows me, sitting so close I think I can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Trunks, what's the plan here." It seems like I've lost my footing. I am drowning in him.

"Pan, I won't beg you." His voice is cold. The moment is gone. "We can tell our family, but I think we both know that it's going to go better if we present a united front, as a couple."

I'm sure he's right, but I don't want to lie to my parents either. I've already done enough of that. "What about romance and dating and getting to know one another."

"Sweetheart, that ship sailed about 5 months ago, wouldn't you say?" His voice has gone soft. He places his hand against the swell where our baby currently resides. "I think we both know as much as we need to right now. Marry me,Pan, let me love you. No, this isn't ideal, it isn't what either of us imagined for our lives; but this is where we are."

It would be so easy to tell him yes, to let him take over. I've adored him since I was a child asking him to be the pretend groom for my imaginary wedding. My love fully bloomed the night I saw him in his weakness. The night we conceived this child. I don't know why I can't just super-impose that man over the man I've known all my life, but it's like he's these two halves and I can't reconcile them into one picture.

I want the world with him, but I'm afraid I can't have it. Suddenly my purse is vibrating, the alarm in my purse telling me it's time for the party where our two worlds officially transform.

"It's time." He says, dropping his hands from my belly. I immediately miss the warmth. As we both stand up, I wonder if I'm making the right choice. I can't tell if he really cares about me or if his only interest is in this child. Is it wrong to want him to prove himself to me, as a man who thinks he wants to be my husband? To wait until he shows me some sign that he loves me, the person I am and have always been and not the me who is currently pregnant with his offspring.

I hate the insecurity inherent in being here. For the thousandth time I curse my own dumb luck. A 4.0 student should know something about making sure she doesn't get pregnant. Then again, the world assumes that because I am, or was, a college student I've been out getting myself around. The truth is I waited for the right time, the right man. It's what i told myself for years in high school. I kept telling myself, on the nights I sat in the dorm hallways doing homework on my laptop while Bra did Kami-knows-what with Kami-knows-who that one day my Prince would come along and then I could make up for what I was missing now by saying I'd saved myself for him. Apparently I'm weak.

And the irony is, if I would just give in and tell that lavender-haired devil what he wants to hear all my sins would be symbolically washed away. I could be clean of this, not because it would change what happened, but because I would be moving towards the right thing—the expected thing. I've got a marriage proposal from the most well renowned bachelor in all of Japan, women would kill for a chance to touch him, let alone wake up beside him every morning for the next hundred or so years.

I follow Trunks down the hallway, a few steps behind.

I second guess my hesitation. Is it because I'm not sure he's the right guy? Or am I afraid, deep down, that he's always been the perfect one? Do I really care what his motives are as long as in the end things work out in my favor? Or am I too afraid I'll mess this up and that somehow, in a frightening part of myself I'm glad this is all happening now because he can never leave me—like I'm some kind of sociopath, or is it psychotic. These damn hormones are really screwing with my brain!

"Trunks!" I feel like I'm shouting, but I'm trying to keep my voice neutral, like I'm not doing anything unusual at all.

He turns, his head back only half facing me. A wary eye on the kitchen that is only paces away where his sister sits chatting with Goten and stealing food of passing trays of food.

Words are escaping my mouth before I can fully grasp what they are, like my brain has put my body on autopilot while it steps out for a bathroom break. "Alright, I'll do it."

His lips curve into a wicked half smile, almost lecherous really. I'm afraid now not only of the words that have gotten away from me, but of what the glint in his purple eyes really means. "Great. Lead with that, then."

It's like we've just completed a business deal, nothing personal going on between. As if a baby isn't personal. As if kissing me so deeply I can feel it my toes just a few minutes past, isn't personal.

I want to smack him, hard. But I smile, a saccharine sweet smile, and am planning to just brush by him as though he doesn't make me burn every time we touch when the world bottoms out.

"What does Pan need to "lead" that could possibly involve you, Trunks."


	10. Chapter Nine Trunks

One Wrong Turn

Chapter Nine- Trunks

A/N: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! To all my reviewers, it really motivates the writer to keep going to know it's being read and appreciated. I promise. For the record, I have absolutely NO intention of setting up Goten and Bra as a couple. As for Goten's Silence… umm…. he's being a grown up? (Confession, I had to rewrite parts of this chapter because I forgot he knows! I blame loosing the flash drive, then finding said flash drive, taking 6 credits of university courses, while my husband is ALSO taking 6 credits of university courses, working 20 hours a week and caring for two kids… ) I really do try to update as much as possible, and I've been trying not to "sit" on chapters so nothing gets lost. Bear with me, I'll be as amazing as I think I can get away with.

—Diema

* * *

><p>"What does Pan need to "lead" that could possibly involve you, Trunks."<p>

My throat sinks into my stomach at the sound of Gohan's voice, which seems to boom through the whole house. Can everybody hear us right now, or is it all in my head. I really can't decide which would be worse.

I seriously was not planning on dealing with her father until later—Much, much later. In the end I realized Pan's strategy was best because it's a big, public announcement. Nobody can outright kill me during a public announcement. Private is a whole different android, and I was definitely not planning on facing it until after, when tempers had cooled down—or Videl had a chance to talk Gohan into at least letting me keep that parts that would make being married to his daughter _really_ enjoyable.

I'm fumbling for words to explain myself in a way that means I still have my head at the end of the evening when Pan comes to the rescue.

"We have an arrangement," she gives her father a hug. "A matter of business."

He nods his head as though pleased. I am somehow amazed at her audacity. I get that her dad is a business man, and sometimes his head is all about the work he's doing. But to lie, outright, to his face. I'm simply stunned, thrilled to have my head, but stunned nonetheless. I also realize, when her father puts together just what kind of business we're arrange, that I am probably going to suffer twice as much for allowing this charade to go on.

"Well, you're the guest of honor, Sweetheart, let's get you out to this party of yours."

Gohan takes her arm and leads her out to the lawn where guest mill about, chatting and eating food. I follow behind, trailing a few steps, looking at the faces of people I've admired all my life. People who respect me for the family I come from and the values I was raised with. People who taught me to fight, and to stand up for the things I believe in. People who are heroes.

Heroes who are about to realize, that somehow, I've become the villain.

As I step out onto the lawn I'm snagged by Marron, "Man, I've been looking for you _everywhere. _I heard that Pan's probably going to bring the baby's father to this shindig, you wanna help me kick this guys teeth in once the pleasantries are over?"

I try to act nonchalant. "Sorry, can't. I have a commitment after this that I just can't get out of."

"What in the name of Kami could possibly be more important than defending Pan's honor?"

_Getting my teeth kicked in. _"It's a business thing," I fall back on Pan's previous lie. As I realize that Gohan has led Pan to the front of the crowd, with her mother and my parents and sister. "Look, I'll explain later, right now, I really need to go." I hustle off and I can't be sure if she knows something's off, but I don't think she does.

I make way through people I called Aunt or Uncle or Cousin as a small child, because I wanted relatives that I just didn't have. Being the only child of two only children, well effectively in my Dad's case I think he did have siblings _once_, who are only children doesn't leave room for lots of small cousins to play with. And people wonder why mom took to inventing gadgets, it's because she didn't have people.

As I slip beside my sister into the tight knot forming about Pan. She falters in the story she's telling and I smile at her weakly. Bra nods her head at me, and my mother wraps one arm around me in a half embrace to keep me from wandering off, I'm not sure.

"Like I was saying," she picks up where she left off, "I just made a critical miscalculation about what I wanted from my life at Bra's party and now, here I am." She waves her hands down, gesturing the small melon currently residing under her shirt.

"And the father?" Surprisingly, the question is from Bra and not one of Pan's parents. Maybe they're just resigned to not wanting anymore detail after Pan all but saying she'd slept with a man she had no relationship with. Which isn't really true, we had a relationship, it just wasn't a romantic one.

"I didn't see anyone besides those we'd invited. Was he not able to come with you tonight, Pan" Videl is soft-spoken in a way that suggests while her words give leeway, she doesn't intend to allow it. Like she's seething on the inside."

"About that…" Pan's voice tapers off, as though she's finally reached the end of some invisible line of tape. "I… uh… um… Well…You see," she laughs nervously then taking a deep breath, she continues spitting the words out one on top of another without giving herself time to breathe, jamming them together so fast I'm not sure anyone can even make out what she's saying and I already know the secret. "It really was just a one time thing and Trunks is the father of my baby and I'm going to be moving in with him just as soon as we can take care of my contract."

"WHAT?!" It comes out as a general chorus, although I note absently that my father's voice is not part of it. And that sometime Goten joined this little circus, and now others are looking in this way.

But I'm bucking the system because I'm saying something different, and suddenly all eyes are on me for real. "Moving in? I thought you were saying you'd marry me!"


	11. Chapter Ten Pan

One Wrong Turn

Chapter Ten—Pan

I tell myself not to look at Trunks while I'm making my announcement because he'll distract me and I can't afford to loose my nerve right now. I spit the words out, all at once, one on top of the next. I'm afraid that if I take time to breathe, and think about what I'm saying I won't be able to finish.

"It was just a one time thing and Trunks is the father of my baby and I'm going to be moving in with him just as soon as we can take care of my contract."

I am mildly aware of the outraged exclamations of friends and family, the slack-jawed awe present on their faces, but I'm most aware of Trunks. He seems truly horrified as he questions the intent of my heart.

It's true, I should be saying yes to marrying him. I'm a fool not to, but I'm not ready to yet. He's not ready yet.

And our families are talking over each other vying for my attention, for his. "Why won't you marry him? What possessed you to get together with her? How long have you been together? Are you together?"

Trunks and I lock eyes across the circle. He is silent, his eyes burning into me angrily. I can tell he doesn't want to deal with this any more than I do.

He moves deftly through our family, negotiating the shield-like defense my mother and father have created with ease. He grabs my wrist, wrapping his fingers around to form a tight cage. It's almost painful, and before I can understand his intent I'm crying out in pain as he lifts off, dragging me behind him as dead weight untilI use my own power to keep up with him.

"Trunks let go!" I am hollering above the sound of air rushing past, but he isn't listening. I stop thrusting forwards. Pain as he tightens the grip on my wrist, but at this speed I'm falling fast enough that I snap free of his grip albeit with great pain.

Once free I push forwards, returning my body to a stable momentum. He turns to face me, hovering in the air, angelic.

"How dare you!"

"How dare I what?"

"How dare you make it seem like I don't care! What could possibly possess you to make it look like I'm some cad who just takes advantage and then walks away until you force me back. How dare you act like I don't love you!" He's screaming at me, his words echoing with rage and a the static crackle of power flaring as he bursts into radiant waves of golden light into his super-saija-jin form.

I stumble helplessly for the words that have escaped me as he advances. He grabs me by the waist, clutching me to his chest like a toy. The heat of his power is searing against my skin until he's gathered enough speed for the cold air to counteract it. I don't dare to try to talk to him like this.

We arrive at his condo, he lands on the balcony with the agility of a dancer. His feet touch the solid ground and he sets me on my feet turning my face to his. He isn't looking me in the eye, it's like he's looking through me.

"How can you not understand?" He whispers, his voice low and deadly as he allows his power to dissipate. He opens the door behind me with a flick of his wrist. "How can you not see what you are to me?"

He crushes me to him, claiming my mouth with his and drives me through the door. He kicks it shut behind him, never releasing his hold on me. I try to pull away, desperate for air and sanity, but he won't let me free. He pins me to the wall with the weight of his body and I'm not sure when we crossed the room.

One hand holds my wrists pinned above me and the other trails down the front of my shirt blazing a trail of fire as he rips the fabric to reveal my flesh.

"You drive me wild." He confesses, kissing the hollow of my throat. "I can't get you out of my head. I tried, for weeks to focus, but you haunt me." He's kissing his way down to my breasts. I can feel the hitch in my breath as he teeth graze over my nipple through the thin fabric of my bra.

"Trunks—"

"No. You don't talk. It's time for you to listen."

He releases my wrist to undo the zipper on my skirt and with one tug I am aware of my underwear and skirt sliding down my legs to the floor. He lifts me out of the pooled fabric as though it is contaminated. I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as he resumes his trail of kisses while moving us towards the bed. I allow myself to just enjoy this, what use is fighting my desire.

Standing at the edge of his bed I watch while he pulls off his own shirt and pants.

He kisses me deeply, and I am aware of the naked thickness of his penis pressing against me. I can't fathom how this is going to work, with the roundness of my belly between us. Apparently he was already ahead of me as he removes his mouth from mine, spinning me around so my back is next to him. He tips me forward at the waist over the ends of his bed and with his hands gripped firmly about my hips he thrusts into me. I cry out, but I can't be sure if it's from surprise, pain, or pleasure.

I wish I could pretend there's something romantic about this, but there isn't. He's lost in some animalistic haze, claiming my body angrily with his. As though through force he can somehow place a marker on me that says I am his. In the end, he pulls me against him, panting and drops us both onto his bed.

"Trunks…" my voice is broken. "Trunks, what is going on?"

"You can't see it? You don't see the way you complete me, the way you make me whole? You don't understand that I love you?"

I am half tempted to tell him you don't treat people you love the way he just treated me, but I'm afraid of raising his anger again.

"What is it going to take for me to get through to you, Pan.?" He runs his hand across the swell of my stomach, fingers dancing across the skin in a light caress. "I need you in my life. I want to be the man who comes home to you every day. I want to wake up beside you every morning and got to sleep beside you every night. I want to be the father who teaches our son to fight, and what it means to be a man."

"Daughter." I laugh. "We're having a girl."

He props himself up on his elbow to look me in the eyes.

"A daughter, really? You didn't tell me. Then I'll threaten her boyfriends and teach her how to keep them in place. Pan, I don't have a ring to offer you right now. I have more temper than any man but my father has a right to. I'm far from perfect, but I'm yours. Don't make me beg, don't misunderstand the love I have for you. It isn't logical, but it's yours. Marry me, today, tomorrow a hundred years from now—I don't care, just say you'll be mine"

"_You_ really want me, just as I am and nobody else? Are you saying you're in love with me, Trunks. Seriously?"

He kisses me on the lips lightly. "Sweetheart, I haven't thought about anyone else since you."

"But do you _love_ me?" I have to have a clear answer to this. I can't bind myself to him forever without being certain that he's not going to turn around and leave me once I'm committed.

"How many ways can I say it before you'll understand Pan." He's kissing me again. "Yes, Pan. I love you. I don't know when or how it happened, but I love you."

I smile, a calm settling inside myself. He's right,his recent anger excepted that he's been nothing but tender with me. He's catered to my whims, accepted my crazy and never spoken against me. He all but stole me from the presence of our outraged families. How much more can I ask of one man, even a super-human one.

"I'll marry you, but I have one condition."

"Anything."

"You have to explain it to my father."


End file.
